"Good afternoon, Mister Crimson," the man said as he placed the plate on the table. He wore a crisp black suit that might have been made only before he entered. He sat and pushed the plate to the other side. "Please, help yourself.

    Alex hesitated only a moment before pulling the chair and sitting. The smell of steak had him salivating. He'd felt hungry before, today he was famished. He dug into the meat and the salad that filled the plate.

    "I expect you're hungry," the man said with a smile. He produced a bottle from somewhere and handed it to Alex. "You look to be in better form today."

    Alex took it and was relieved when it was juice, he didn't know if his stomach could handle alcohol right now. He took a long swallow of it, unable to tell what it was, but that it went with the meat. He ate, uncaring if the man in the black suit wanted to talk.

    "Do you know why you're here?" he asked, once Alex was done.

    He shook his head, wishing he had another serving. 

    "Do you know where you are?"

    Alex looked around at the dresser, bed, bathroom door, then at the door leading out. "Am I allowed to leave?" He asked, instead of answering.

    "Not for the moment, I'm afraid. There are things that need to be cleared up."

    Alex pushed the plate and bottle to the man. "Than this is a prison."

    The man didn't react. "We'd like to know how you are associated with a mercenary named Tristan."

    "I've never heard the name before," Alex answered. He had no idea why the man might think he was associated with a mercenary.

    "Maybe you can explain how he was able to enter the company using your ID?"

    That was a Company Man? Alex had heard rumors of them, men and women beyond security, who handled problem employees. Was he inside the Luminex building? Like the Company Men, he'd heard rumors of cells, but he hadn't thought they were true. Cells were for criminals, and the police handled those. He wasn't a criminal.

    "I don't know," Alex said. "I've been sick. maybe he stole it from me while I was walking home. I wasn't really paying attention to the people around me."

    The man smiled, and Alex shuddered. "Ah yes. You falling sick was quite convenient, wasn't it? The doctor who treated you ran tests on the virus you 'caught'. It was manufactured." The man paused, eyes fixed on Alex. "Mister Crimson," he continued, when the silence stretched on, "why don't you come clean now. We are going to find out the truth. You are only making your situation more dire by lying to me, and it might have escaped your notice, but your partner has abandoned you."

    Alex rubbed his temples, he was tired. "Look, I don't know anything about a virus being manufactured, all I know is I got sick. really sick. I'm sorry someone stole my ID and used it to get in. I hope he didn't do anything too bad to the systems."

    "The systems are fine. I'm told it went schizophrenic for a time, but it was brought back under control."

    "That's good."

    "Yes, it is. Unfortunately we couldn't do anything for the three men who were murdered during that time."

    Alex looked up. He couldn't believe his ID had been used to kill people.

    "By your expression, I take it the deaths weren't part of your plan?"

    Alex shook his head. "What are you talking about? What plan? I'm shocked because some of my coworkers are dead."

    "You didn't want that to happen?" The man asked, in a tone Alex thought could be mocking.

    "Of course not. Those are people I work with."

    "Then why did you partner yourself with someone having such a murderous history?"

    Alex stared at him, feeling a headache coming on. "What are you talking about?"

    "Your partnership with Tristan."

    "What partnership? I don't know who that is."

    "Then why were you shocked that he killed coworkers of yours?"

    Alex rubbed his temple again. "Because I've never had a coworker be killed before. I'm a decent human being, I don't spend my time imagining what it's like for people to die so I'll grow used to the idea."

    "Then why did you partner yourself with Tristan?" 

    "I didn't!"

    "Do you mean you were expecting to work with someone else in infiltrating the company?"

    "No!"

    "So you knew the type of person he was, and still picked him as your partner?"

    Alex groaned and rested his head in his hands. He spoke without looking up. "Lets see if I can make this any clearer for you. I don't know this Tristan you talked about. I didn't pick him as a partner. I had nothing to do with him getting in the building, disrupting the systems and killing people."

    "How did you know he disrupted the systems?" 

    "You said it!"

    "Did you show him how to do it?"

    "What? Of course not. I'm a loyal employee."

    "Then why did you help Tristan infiltrate the company and kill three of its employees?"

    Alex slammed his hands on the table, ignoring the stinging and stood. "I didn't do that!"

    "Please sit down, Mister Crimson."

    "Why? So you can continue ignoring what I'm telling you?" 

    "Sit down."

    Alex tried to stare him down, but he lost. He sat.

    "Now, lets start from the beginning. Where did you make contact with Tristan?"

    Alex sighed. "I don't know who that is."

    Over the next too hours, his headache got progressively worse as he answered the same questions over and over, with what he knew to be the truth, but for some reason the man before him wouldn't believe him. When the man finally stood, he shook his head, disappointment plain on his face, as if it was Alex's fault he hadn't obtained the answers he wanted.

    Alone Alex stayed at the table. He didn't have the energy needed to move. He wished he had something to do, just access to a computer so he could read and find out what had happened for the company to hold him prisoner. After hitting his head on the table and coming suddenly awake, Alex moved to the bed, where he stared at the ceiling.

    He woke with a start, thinking Jack was there. he looked around, looking for him, but he wasn't. He curled up and cried.

    Eventually Alex woke, showered and dressed. As he sat back down on the bed the man entered carrying a tray with a plate of eggs, sausages and bacon. The glass contained apple juice, Alex found on tasting it.

    "Good morning, Mister Crimson. did you sleep well?"

    Alex shrugged, focusing on eating. Once he was done the man smiled.

    "Now, maybe today you'll be more amicable and tell me how you made contact with Tristan?"

    Alex groaned and spent the day answering the same questions. no, he didn't know Tristan, No he hadn't helped him get into the building. No, they weren't partners. No, he hadn't planned the whole thing, and no he didn't know what Tristan wanted with them either. He couldn't help him, Alex was a law abiding citizen and would have nothing to do with mercenaries or any kind of criminal activities.

    After hours of this Alex screamed and threw the table across the room.

    The man didn't even blink. "Please put the table back, Mister Crimson."

    Alex had no idea how the man did it, but the tone made him blush with shame for losing his temper. As if he shouldn't be bothered with having to answer the same questions over and over. He placed the table back, sat down, and the man started questioning him again.

    The following day, and the next were more of the same, but the one after that started with a large stack of pancakes, instead of the usual eggs. There was a bowl of butter and a small pitcher of syrup, real maple syrup he discovered.

    He'd only tasted it once, when he was a kid, a treat his grand parents had bought for him and his sister. The tastes had stayed with him. he'd never been able to describe it, except for it being almost cloyingly sweet, but he'd loved it. He'd thought about buying some over the years, but it was just too expensive.

    Now as the thick liquid hit his tongue, memories of that morning with his grandmother came back to him, the smell of cooked toasts, burnt butter, the sound of frying.

    He devoured the stacks and leaned back in the chair with a satisfied sigh. His stomach and his spirit were content.

    The man opened his mouth, but Alex cut him off. "I don't know who Tristan is, again."

    The edges of the man's lips raised in an almost smile which he brought under control. "I thought you might say that." He placed a datapad on the table, and the image of a Samalian appeared above it.

    Alex smiled, and his heart ached as he looked at him. 

    "So," The man said, "You do know him."